She's Not There
by Brunette
Summary: Let me tell you about the way she looked, the way she acted, the color of her hair. Her voice was soft and cool. Her eyes were clear and bright. But she's not there.
1. Too Late to Say You're Sorry

**_eAuthor's Note. _**_So my old password suddenly dawned on me, so I got back into this account (hello, old friend!) and have decided to place this story under this account. Now I'm just trying to figure out how to delete that one I just made. I could really use that e-mail account for this one... Ah, I hate tech support._

**_Disclaimer._**_ I don't own the characters of _The Mummy_. That's all Universal property. The title of the story is also the title of a song by The Zombies, which is awesome and you should listen to it. .second. Set a mood._

* * *

**She's Not There**

* * *

_Too Late to Say You're Sorry_

"There will be time, there will be time  
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet."

**1926**

"Hey, Cap. It's been a while."

He should've seen it coming. He hadn't thought about her in years, or maybe only months. It hadn't been that long, but it had also been forever ago. But he'd thought about her this morning. She'd been on his mind for the first time in a long time, and suddenly there she was. She sat in the quiet booth alone, smoking a cigarette. She looked just the way he remembered her: a pretty face with too much make-up, dark hair still stubbornly long, stylish clothes. Just the way he remembered.

"Millicent."

She smiled, but only a little. "I must say, I never thought I'd find Rick O'Connell in a place like this."

He'd thought of her earlier today because he was trying on tuxedos. And Rick hadn't worn a tux since the last time he saw her. His throat jerked a little. It really wasn't about the tux.

He watched her eyes drift away from him to his companion, and he suddenly felt cold inside.

"Is that Evelyn Carnahan? My, I haven't seen you in ages."

Her voice was bright and cheery. She could always fake sunshine.

Rick shifted his weight awkwardly, but Evelyn only smiled. "Yes, it's been quite some time."

"I used to see Jonathan all the time," Millicent chattered on, "but I don't think I've seen you since...well, goodness, since that party at the Windham's. Do you remember? I think we were barely fifteen."

Rick looked down. He was only vaguely aware of Evelyn saying that she did remember the party, that she really hadn't attended many parties since...

He'd thought about her when he was putting on the tuxedo, tying the bowtie. But he hadn't put it on til an hour or so ago. He'd thought about her that very morning, at the jeweler's. His pocket suddenly felt very heavy. Without thinking, he thrust his hands into his pockets, and his hand closed around the ring box. He'd stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom and tried to practice saying the words. _Evelyn, will you marry me? Miss Carnahan will you do me the honor... Evelyn, I've been thinking about it, and I think we should get married. Evelyn, marry me._ He'd bought the tux. He'd made the dinner reservations. He'd even asked Jonathan for permission, odd as _that_ was. He'd done everything.

But he'd thought of her.

He looked up and their eyes met, and he felt the words still left hanging between them from that night. He couldn't tell if she felt them, too. She was smiling nervously and glancing between the two of them, and Rick was suddenly aware that Evelyn was watching him expectantly.

"Well, I don't want to keep you two from your evening," Millicent was saying, and Rick was struck with the embarrassing realization that they must have been all looking at one another in silence for a little too long.

He forced a smile and started to say some kind of a goodbye, something about how nice it was to see her again, even if it wasn't. He took Evelyn's elbow, and he was about to usher both of them towards the table he had reserved in the back, but just then, someone behind him said, "Pardon me, sir."

Rick turned around and met the eyes of a short, stocky Egyptian woman. She had a baby boy in her arms who smiled widely as she side-stepped Rick and took a seat in Millicent's booth.

"He was only wet," she told Millcent, "but I think he's ready to go home."

Millicent took a final breath of her cigarette and snubbed it in her ashtray. "I don't blame him. I'm tired myself."

She glanced up, and seemed surprised to find Rick and Evelyn still there. She raised her eyebrows.

"This is my son Alfred."

"Oh," Evelyn smiled. "He's lovely, Millicent. What blue eyes! I hadn't heard that you married."

"That's because I haven't."

Evelyn's smile faded, but only for a second. "Well, he's lovely. Rick, shall we...?"

"How old is he?"

Millicent and Evelyn both seemed surprised by Rick's question, that seemed to growl out of him like a demand. Millicent pressed her pretty lips into a line for a second, and met his eyes evenly.

"He's a year and a half now."

"He's lovely," Evelyn said again. "Rick?"

He let her lead him away from the booth, and they followed his mechanical footsteps to their table. Rick's mind hummed with equations. He didn't even notice Evelyn give him a look when he sat down without pulling out her chair for her. It was February. It took him entirely too long to remember that. February of 1926. And a year ago, it was February of '25. And half a year before that, it was...January, December, November...August! It was August of 1924. So the boy was born in August of '24. And nine months before_ that_ -

"Rick?"

He blinked hard and met her worried hazel eyes. "Sorry. What, honey?"

"I'd asked how you knew Millicent Oliver."

August, July, June, May...

"What?"

Evelyn smiled, but her eyes were irritated. "Millicent. At the booth. How do you know her?"

April, March, February, January...

"Oh, uh. I just, it was just this thing."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "This 'thing'?"

December. December of 1923. The month his garrison marched to Hamunaptra. The month the world ended. Rick let out a hard sigh, and rubbed his face. How could it be December of '23? Why did it have to be December?

"Evelyn, I'm sorry..."

He heard her take a little breath, and straighten in her seat. "Sorry about what?"

It was all he could do to just shake his head. He met her eyes sheepishly. "Look, let's do this another night. Let me call you cab."

"Call me a cab?"

Evelyn was angry now. That's just what he needed. Evelyn angry.

"Rick, you need to tell me what's going on."

His hands tightened into fists. For some reason, he was angry, too. "I don't know what's going on, okay? I just need you to give me a break tonight."

Evelyn's teeth clenched. She stared at him for a moment before huffing a sigh and getting up from the table. She didn't say a word before she started for the door. Damn it. This was not how this was supposed to be going. Evelyn, so beautiful in a black dress. Evelyn, so beautiful, waiting on his question. Had she known it was coming? Rick jumped up and tried to catch her elbow.

"Evelyn...don't leave like this."

She whirled around and took a breath to say something, but stopped herself. She huffed again and turned around to keep walking.

"At least let me call you cab!"

"I'll call my own," she threw back, skirting around a table and storming out into the night. He wanted to follow her, but he caught a glimpse of Millicent by the coatrack. He couldn't let them both leave.

"Millicent!"

She looked up, a little confused. "Where'd Evelyn run off to?"

"We're going to talk."

"Who? You and I?" Millicent sighed, glancing toward the door. "I'm tired, Rick. And my girl already has Alfred in the cab - "

"Are you kidding me?" He took the coat from her hands. "I don't care how tired you are. Go sit down. I've got a table."

She might have rolled her eyes. Her hand reached for the doorknob.

"Hey!"

He took her wrist and made her face him. She glared back irritably. "Well I at least have to tell them to go on home, and give my girl some money for the cab. You can't expect them to sit out there all night. He's a baby for Christ's sake."

Rick held up his hands. "Alright. But...come back."

Millicent chuckled humorlessly. "That's your table in the back, with the candles and roses?"

He nodded.

"I'll be right there." She glanced at her coat in his hands. "And you'll hang that up for me."

"Sure."

She slipped out into the night, and Rick thought about watching to make sure she'd come back. He hung up her coat and stood there an uncomfortable moment longer before heading back to his table. He'd only sat a second before the waitor rounded on him. He asked for a whiskey and water, and for someone to take those damn roses somewhere else. Millicent arrived before he could even finish telling the waitor his full request. She seated herself and reached into her purse for a cigarette. She told the waitor she just wanted coffee, and he hurried off. Her dark eyes followed him before turning carefully to Rick.

"So. Where would you like to start?"

Rick reached a finger under his collar and pulled apart the tie. "Let's just skip whatever bullshit you had in store and get right to it."

Millicent ran her tongue over her lips. "Right to what?"

He frowned. "Come on, Mills. Just tell me now. Is he mine?"


	2. No One Told Me About Her

**_Disclaimer._**_ I don't own the characters of _The Mummy_. That's all Universal property. The title of the story is also the title of a song by The Zombies, which is awesome and you should listen to it. right. this. second. Set a mood._

* * *

**She's Not There**

* * *

_No One Told Me About Her_

**1923**

"So you're really not going to buy me a drink?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Did I not just say I wasn't?"

Millicent scoffed. She leaned back in her chair and kept eyeing this strange, slight little man in disbelief. She'd sat down by him because she could tell he was drinking vodka or gin, and she adored vodka. And because she recognized the Legionnaire uniform from a nickelodeon she'd seen just before she'd left the States. She figured a Legionnaire was the perfect kind of slumming.

"Now why won't you buy me a drink? Do ladies not drink in your country?"

He chuckled and took a sip of his drink before turning his steely blue eyes to her. "Let me tell you why I won't buy you a drink."

"Well I wish you would," she cut in, flashing a pretty smile.

He pointed an accusatory finger at her. "You're not a sure thing."

Millicent rose an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, if I buy you a drink, I'm out a drink. Because you're not doing anything in return."

Her jaw dropped a little in delighted disbelief. Oh, Hargrove had been right about these sorts of people. They were _bad._

"Let me get this straight, Mr. ...?"

"Gabor."

"Ah. Gabor. You only buy drinks for women whom you know are going to sleep with you?"

He sort of grinned and nodded. Millicent folded her arms over her chest, thrilled to death over his brazenness.

"Now what makes you so certain I wouldn't sleep with you?"

Mr. Gabor scoffed. He made a grand motion at the loud, bustling bar. At the many uniformed men, the dapper tourists, the flappers.

"Let me tell you something, Miss...?"

"Oliver," she said. "Millicent Oliver. You're welcome to call me Millicent or even Mills if you must indulge the affectionate, but I'll hate you til you die if you call me Millie."

He smiled. "Let me tell you something, Millicent. I am not a fool. But let's say I was a fool. Let's say I did buy you a drink, because you kept being sweet as you are and kept sitting by me. Let's say I buy you another, and we dance. Let's say I buy you a third and you sit on my lap. And I say, 'My dear, I'm buying you another drink.' By the time I come back with that fourth drink, you'll be walking off with some other man and going to bed with him."

Millicent frowned. "Now why would I go and do something like that?"

"Because," he told her definitively. "That's just the sort of woman you are."

"But how do you know that?"

Mr. Gabor shrugged. "Because you're very pretty. And they're all very handsome."

Millicent shook her head. She was so thoroughly fascinated that she didn't even notice how close she was leaning, just to hear what he had to tell her.

"Now what if I'd come over here just because I was dying to go to bed with you? And you go and say a thing like that to me. Doesn't it become a self-fulfilling prophecy?"

He took another sip from his glass. "You didn't come over here to sleep with me."

"But what if I _had?"_

"You didn't. Women like you never do."

Millicent sighed. "Well, you sound as if you have the entire world figured out. Why did I come over and sit, then?"

He grinned, and sat back in his chair in the most please manner. "Because you wanted a drink."

She couldn't help giggling a little. "I suppse I did."

"But it is very obvious that you have money. Those are real pearls around your neck. And your shoes are new. So you can buy your own drinks."

Millicent gave him a little look, but he was unbudging. She heaved a little sigh and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well then. If I_ must."_

He didn't say anything when she stood up and left the table. She pushed through the crowds of smelling people to the bar. She asked for vodka and water and thought about that odd little man, Mr. Gabor. She was positively delighted by him, even if he was too rude and stingy to buy her a drink. He was exactly the kind of people Hargrove was so intent on her avoiding, and she loved anything and anyone that upset Hargrove -

"I got that," a voice to the left of her said. She realized then that her drink had appeared, and the bartender was waiting for her money. The familiar accent made her smile, and Millicent turned to meet a handsome face and a slight smirk.

"Thank you, sir," she said, tipping her glass to him.

He slipped up next to her. "It's Rick."

Rick also wore a Legionnaire's uniform, though he was clearly higher in rank than Mr. Gabor. Her heart raced a little at his tall, muscled form and the extraordinary blue of his eyes.

"You're an American," she said happily. "It's so refreshing to see another of us over here."

He tilted his head to the side curiously. "You don't sound American."

Millicent sighed and took a sip of her drink. "You'll have to forgive me for coming from the Brahmins, darling. They all still think they're British. And then half of my family still lives in England, so as if I don't have enough to contend with... I'll tell you, I've tried terribly hard to ditch the accent, but finishing school was so strict."

Rick glanced around the bar. "This is kind of a dangerous place for a finishing school girl."

She took a strong gulp of her drink, which stung a little but hummed in her head much longer. "Now you're starting to sound like Hargrove."

He looked confused. "Who's Hargrove?"

Millicent hadn't eaten nearly all day, and the little bit of liquor was already too loud in her slight body for her to just dismiss an annoyance like Hargrove.

"Oh, he's my brother-in-law, and he's my cousin, and he's an incredible bore."

Rick still seemed confused, but all he said was, "Oh."

"Everyone thought Bea - that's my sister - was doing such a smart thing, marrying our cousin Hargrove. He's been knighted, darling! The whole family's gone to pieces over it. They call him 'Sir.' I'd rather die than call a dolt like Hargrove 'Sir.' He must be a truly invaluable knight, too, being sent out here to do God-knows-what. _Truly_ invaluable."

She took another drink and giggled now at the thought of her brother-in-law and his stupid moustache and even stupider title. Rick watched her with amused eyes.

"You know, I don't really know what you're talking about, but I think I'd rather be in this bar than around this Hargrove guy, too."

Millicent looked at him apologetically. "Oh, dear, I'm sorry. As if they aren't enough of a bore to begin with, I have to talk about them, which is probably the only way to make them even more boring." She took another sip. "Let's talk about something interesting."

Rick gave her a quizzical look, and took a sip from his drink. He leaned against the bar. "Alright..."

She looked him over, so very handsome in his uniform. She finished off the last of her drink too quickly, and saw (or imagined she saw) boredom in the lines of his face. And Millicent Oliver was _not_ a bore.

She slid up close to him, and she looked up into his eyes, and he looked down into hers. Her whole body was warm and buzzing with vodka; it hummed in her ears and drowned out the noise in the bar. She reached a hand up to his face, and felt the smoothness of his freshly-shaved cheek.

"Or maybe," she said quietly, "let's not talk at all."

She pulled him into her kiss, and he pulled her into his bed.


	3. Let Me Tell You

**_Disclaimer._**_ I don't own the characters of _The Mummy_. That's all Universal property. The title of the story is also the title of a song by The Zombies, which is awesome and you should listen to it. right. this. second. Set a mood._

* * *

**She's Not There**

* * *

_Let Me Tell You_

**1923**

"What are you doing here?"

Millicent turned towards the voice; despite her sunglasses, she had to squint in the brilliant morning sun. She met Mr. Gabor's eyes and gave him a dazzling little smile as he walked over to her, his eyes a little red and puffy from too much vodka the previous night.

"Mr. Gabor!"

"You can call me Beni," he told her, looking over her and the automobile she was in.

"Nice car," he snorted, leaning on the side of the sparkling old relic she had parked just in front of one Legion office or another. "I don't think I've seen one of these in years."

Millicent gave him a little look. "It's the only one Hargrove would let me borrow. And at least it's in good condition."

"You won't make it very far in the sand on those wheels."

Millicent waved off his comment like an annoying fly, changing the subject. "I'm waiting for Rick O'Connell. He had to stop in and talk with your...lieutenant, I think? About something or other."

Beni's face split into a knowing grin. "O'Connell, huh?"

She didn't like the way he was looking at her. "Yes. O'Connell. Do you know him?"

"I was right about you."

Millicent stared stubbornly at her steering wheel before a little smile broke out across her face. "He_ is_ awfully dashing. And he carries a gun."

"We all carry guns," Beni retorted, pulling out a pistol from his hip holster. "We have to."

She eyed the weapon curiously, turning to face him now. "Can I see it?"

He shrugged, handing her the pistol. She held it carefully in both of her hands, turning it over and watching the sunlight dance across its surface.

"You know I've never held one before. Not even a hunting rifle. Father wouldn't let me," her eyes flitted up to his playfully. "Is it loaded?"

"No."

She held it in her hands the way she'd seen gangsters in the nickelodeons, and aimed it at the horizon. "Some thrill, holding a gun. You can make anyone do anything you want them to." She turned and aimed it at him now. "Hands up!"

He rose an eyebrow. "It's not loaded."

"Well you're no fun at all," she huffed. She extended the gun back to him. "Here. Now point it at me, and I'll do anything you say."

Something cruel twinkled in his eye as he took the gun back and leveled the barrel at her. A strange excitement hummed through her veins as she looked down the long, metal shaft.

"Unbutton your blouse."

Millicent laughed, and cocked her head to the side coyly. "No!"

"You said you'd do whatever I say."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Well if you're not going to play along, I won't, either."

He snorted, his face set with something like irritation as he looked her over again. "I was very right about you."

Millicent pretended she didn't hear him. "Is that_ really_ what you'd have me do, if the gun was loaded?"

Beni's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Of course not."

She bit her lip and smiled devilishly. "Then what would you do?"

A strange look passed over his face, and something about the glint in his eye made her nervous. He leaned into the car and got much closer than was comfortable, shoving the barrel of the pistol up underneath her jaw. Her heart thudded wildly against it, even though she kept telling herself it wasn't loaded.

"Well, first, I would put the gun on you, like_ this,_ so that you'd know if I fired, it would all be over."

She swallowed and tried to flash a smile. "I suppose that's smart." But she could only manage a whisper.

"And then I'd tell you to give me all of your money and jewelry."

He watched her a second longer, before pulling the pistol away and placing it back in its holster. Millicent let out a sigh.

"And that's all?" Despite herself, she felt strangely offended. "You wouldn't...throw me into some back alley and force me to do the unspeakable?"

Beni smirked, his eyes sliding down to her legs and back up again; when their eyes met, it was fairly obviously he'd been considering it.

"That would depend."

"On?"

He shrugged, leaning away from the car now and standing up straight again. "If you wanted it."

Millicent's brow furrowed in confusion. "But why would I want to? You've just taken all my money and my jewelry, not to mention you've threatened to kill me."

Beni looked at her, something strangely cruel about his face now. "It may surprise you, but some women_ like_ to be dragged into alleyways."

She frowned at him, and despite all her earlier delight in his wretchedness, was feeling just a twinge upset by the way he said that. "No, they don't."

"Sure they do," he insisted, taking a step back. He stared at her a moment longer, and his face changed into a chilling sneer. "And it's easy to pick them out."

The door of the office opened, and Rick hurried out. Beni slunk off in some other direction, and Millicent was relieved to see her handsome American acquaintance.

"Mr. O'Connell, I do hope you haven't had breakfast yet on this fine Sunday morning."

He shook his head, leaning on her car door. "So you're serious, huh? I'm really going to see you all week?"

She pretended to take offense. "Now, Mr. O'Connell, how dare you accuse me of going back on my word! You told me you're only in Cairo for a week, and I insist upon making it a pleasant stay."

Rick smiled and kissed her on the top of her head. "Scoot over."

Millicent looked at him skeptically. "Can you drive on the wrong side of the car? I'm afraid all of Hargrove's autos are British as tea and scones."

He folded his arms over his chest, and she gave him a playful smile, sliding over to the passenger's side of the car. He got in, and they took off away from the Legionnaire's base at a clipping speed. The breeze from the car felt fresh on Millicent's face as she leaned out the window, gazing at the expanse of sand as they drove further and further from civilization.

"Do you think some women like being...violated?"

Rick turned from the fading road to look at her in confusion. "What?"

Millicent sighed, turning to sit foward in the car now. "Watch the road, dear. And it's nothing. Just a stupid conversation I was having."

"With Hargrove?"

Millicent laughed. "Oh, no. Hargrove wouldn't dare speak of such things to a lady, or probably to anyone else. It was with one of the Legionnaires, while I was waiting about for you. I was asking him about...well, anyway, it doesn't particularly matter. We were talking about robbing ladies, I think, and he said, 'some women like being dragged into alleyways.' And I just don't think that's true."

Rick slowed the car to a stop in front of a slim line of palm trees. He turned to look at her again. "Who were you talking to? It wasn't Kowalski, was it?"

"No -"

"Big, redheaded Pollock?"

"No -"

"That's good, 'cause he's...I mean, I'm not going to get into details, but you really shouldn't talk to most of the guys in my garrison. They're in here for a reason."

Millicent decided to take that statement as an opportunity to change the subject. "And what about you? Why are you in the Legion?"

Rick leaned back in his seat. "I don't know...just for the hell of it, I guess."

"Now what does that mean, exactly?"

He let out a sigh, turning to stare at the little oasis they'd driven out to. "Well...I grew up in an orphanage, here in Cairo, actually. And, uh, all I ever wanted to do was get out. So when I turned eighteen and I had to leave, I was kind of lost, and I ran into this recruiter at a bar. And he told me they'd teach me how to fight, and use a gun, and that I'd get three meals a day and go all over the world, and...that was it. I signed up."

Millicent smiled, reaching up to touch the side of his face. "I don't think you know it, but you're quite fascinating, Mr. O'Connell."

He folded his arms over his chest and glanced down at his feet uneasily. Millicent figured she'd made him uncomfortable enough, and slipped closer to him. She turned his face to hers and kissed him. She felt a thrill as he deepened the kiss, gently leaning her back to the seat. He was handsome and tragic and he was keeping her out of that awful house with awful Hargrove, and she was delighted with him.


	4. Her Eyes Were Clear and Bright

**_Author's Note. _**_Sorry, this is a short chapter. I figure it's a two-fer, though, so it's better than nothing._

**_Disclaimer._**_ I don't own the characters of _The Mummy_. That's all Universal property. The title of the story is also the title of a song by The Zombies, which is awesome and you should listen to it. right. this. second. Set a mood._

* * *

**She's Not There**

* * *

_Her Eyes Were Clear and Bright_

**1926**

Millicent took a drag of her cigarette, and slowly blew the smoke out into the restaurant. "Well I don't know. Do you want him to be yours?"

"What?"

Rick's hands tightened into fists. He'd asked her not to play games, but who was he kidding? She loved games.

"You heard me just fine, Cap," she returned evenly. Her finger slid around the rim of her coffee cup, and she watched him lean back in surprise before giving her an incredulous look.

"No, I mean...If he's mine, I want to do the right thing. But...you know, I'm with Evelyn now, so...no, I don't_ want_ him to be mine."

Millicent picked up her cup and took a sip. "That's too hot. Then what difference does it make, dear? If you don't want him, why should I put him on you?"

Rick met her eyes, and he could tell from her expression that she could see the hurt there. "I want to do the right thing."

"Of course you do," she said, though her voice was genuine and sweet and quiet. She tried her cup of coffee again, and this time it must not have been too hot. "That's what I always liked about you. Beni thought it was only because you were handsome, and Hargrove was convinced it was all a stunt to make him mad -"

"How is old Hargrove these days?" Rick asked. He couldn't help the little jab, since she obviously wasn't going to tell him the truth about that baby any time soon.

She met his eyes coolly. "I wouldn't know. I haven't spoken to him in ages."

He watched her quietly, and she breathed a sigh. "I've been tossed out of the family. You can imagine. Though I could've stayed...I could've..."

Rick didn't say anything and took a sip from his drink, his eyes unwavering. She'd tell him. She always told him. She couldn't resist a good story.

"They offered to buy him from me, Hargrove and Bea. I don't know if they're just too closely related or if Hargrove's merely a steer, but they can't produce a child for the life of them. They've been to doctors and my poor sister's had two surgeries now. And for what? To be huge and tired and sick. It's no walk in the park, I promise you."

He took a breath. "I'm surprised you kept him. Didn't you say you'd rather see a doctor in a back alley than be a mother?"

Millicent sighed tersely, and took another drag from her cigarette. "Don't be a simpleton, Rick. It wouldn't be the first thing I said that I didn't mean."

Rick raised his eyebrows. "Boy, isn't that the truth."

She sucked in a little breath, hitting her hands on the table in the first show of emotion he'd seen that evening. Her eyes were a little glazed.

"Damn it, Rick, what is it you want from me? I see you here by chance, and you demand how old my son is, and then I suppose you go and crunch numbers and decide he's yours. But even if he_ is_ yours, he's not. He's my child and I had him and I've kept him all on my own! And here you are, quizzing me about my personal life as if it somehow involves you. Well, it_ hasn't_ involved you for the past two years, and I don't see why it should involve you now!"

Rick breathed in a shaking sigh, leaning over the table. Her words stung a little, but he wasn't about to end this evening and let her walk away with her little secret, leaving him in torment for the rest of his life.

"He has blue eyes," he whispered.

Millicent sniffled and blinked a few times, meeting his gaze with wet, reddish eyes. "So what? Half my family has blue eyes. And half the men I've ever slept with, probably. Do you think you've discovered some missing clue that's evaded me this whole time?"

Rick kind of scoffed, leaning back in his chair. He folded his arms over his chest and looked at her with something like pity. He'd never pitied her, until just now.

"You don't know who the father is, do you?"

Millicent swallowed hard, glancing about the room as if afraid someone might have heard. She chewed nervously on the inside of her cheek, and then took the last drag of her dying cigarette.

"His middle name is St. Gregory. I thought it would be stylish to add the 'saint.' Alfred St. Gregory Oliver. And then I could always tell him he was named for his father..."

Rick reached across the table and took her hand. He was surprised when she let him, and curled her fingers around his. She breathed a sigh and lifted her coffee to her lips with her free hand.

"Millicent...it's alright..."

She met his eyes fiercely, but didn't say a word.

"I just...be honest with me. You don't know who his father is, do you?"


	5. How Would I Know?

**_Disclaimer._**_ I don't own the characters of _The Mummy_. That's all Universal property. The title of the story is also the title of a song by The Zombies, which is awesome and you should listen to it. right. this. second. Set a mood._

* * *

**She's Not There**

* * *

_How Would I Know?_

**1923**

"What is this place?"

"You said you wanted to dance."

"And I was thinking more along the lines of a nightclub."

Rick sighed, holding open the door of the dirty little casbah. She gave him an uncertain look and stepped inside, immediately overwhelmed by the noise and the smell and crowd. Her heart raced. This place - dark and dirty and cramped - was absolutely alive with interesting music and interesting people. Over there were bellydancers, and over there, a jazz band. It was all so deliciously bizarre that Millicent could hardly contain herself. She looked over her shoulder to give him a dazzling smile, and he leaned forward to speak in her ear:

"I hope you don't mind, but I invited somebody. The bartender here only speaks German."

Millicent gave him a little wink. "Well, you should've said something, dear. I'm marvelous in German."

"Are you?"

She laughed a little. "Actually, I am. I took four years of it."

Rick sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Well, I'm sorry I invited a third wheel, then."

Millicent hit his arm playfully. "Oh, it's no trouble. The more the merrier if we're going to dance. I'm certainly not the jealous type. Are you?"

Rick started to say something, but he was interrupted by Beni, appearing out of the crowd with a drink in his hand.

"Mr. Gabor!" Millicent said. "Fancy seeing you again."

Beni gave her a slight smirk before looking at Rick. "I saw an empty table over there."

"So you've already met?" Rick said, a little confused.

"Yes dear," Millicent leaned into his ear to say. "I met him just before meeting you the other night."

They pushed through the crowd to what appeared to be the only empty table. Rick gave Beni a few bills and asked him to get a whiskey and water and whatever Millicent wanted, and reminded him harshly that he _knew_ how much he'd given him, and that he wanted his change back. As Beni scurried off, Millicent scooted her chair closer to Rick and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"So you haven't told me. Are you a ranking officer? I've only been calling you Mr. O'Connell, but you've got those lovely little things on your uniform."

Rick kind of chuckled, glancing at his decorations. "Uh, yeah. I'm a captain."

Millicent smiled at him, kissing him on the cheek. "Now that's much nicer than Mr. O'Connell. Would you like it if I called you Cap?"

He shrugged, an amused look on his face. "Sure."

"Well I like it quite a bit."

Just then Beni arrived with their drinks. Rick eyed him with his hand out until Beni begrudgingly handed back his change and took a seat.

"So you speak German?" Millicent asked, leaning away from Rick so that Beni could hear her above the noise of the bar. He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. She looked up at Rick playfully. "Now why don't you speak German?"

Beni snorted. "Come on. Americans can only speak English, and not even that well."

Millicent crossed her arms over her chest, and Rick gave him a glare. "Now that's not true at all!"

Rick shook his head and took her hand. "Don't encourage him. We came here to dance, so let's dance."

She shrugged. "Okay."

Beni lit a cigarette as they left, weaving through the crowd to the dance floor. The music was fast and heady, like a shot of strong liquor, and Millicent liked it. She loved jazz. She loved the way it pulsed through her whole body and made her think of making love on a muggy summer night. It was just loud enough, just dirty enough, just thrilling enough. It made her body feel connected to her heart, and her head disconnected altogether, and she liked this feeling and moving without thinking. It was raw and real and so much more interesting than the world she lived in.

O'Connell was a terrible dancer. She watched him trying to keep up with her, and laughed aloud, breaking the music's spell. He gave her a look and stopped, throwing up his hands in embarrassed frustration. She exaggerated a sympathetic look and pulled him into her arms, giving him a kiss. It took a few tries, but she finally managed to talk loud enough for him to hear her suggestion that they go back to their drinks.

When they got back to the table, Millicent was surprised to see Beni. She'd kind of forgotten about him in the midst of the music. She sat down and took a sip of her drink, and remembered what he'd said about Americans not speaking other languages.

"You know, Mr. Gabor, I speak more than just English, and I'm an American."

He looked at her and let out a bored sigh. "Congratulations." He eyed their drinks. "Is that all the more you two are going to drink, or can I go back to the base?"

Rick started to say he could go if he wanted, but Millicent interrupted him. "I bet I speak just as many languages as you."

Beni actually snickered, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, you think so?"

Millicent nodded confidently. "I do. I'd bet on it."

Rick looked between the two of them, slightly apprehensive. "I don't think this is such a good idea..."

Beni's eyes danced wickedly, but the way he eyed Rick made Millicent think he might be scared of the larger man. "I thought you came here to dance."

"Rick's a horrid dancer -"

"Hey!"

"Well you are, dear. And Mr. Gabor here has insulted us as Americans, and I get enough of that from Hargrove and all of his snobby British relatives. So let's make it a game, shall we?"

Rick gave her a skeptical look. "You don't know as many languages as he does."

She turned to him and felt legitimately offended. "Now, how would you know? All you know about me is what I look like naked."

Beni snickered, and Rick shot him a look. Millicent stood up from her seat. "Let's say we go to the bar. Mr. Gabor, if you had your choice, would you rather do shots of vodka or whiskey? I can't do gin, it's like drinking paint varnish."

Rick started to protest, but Beni was already standing. "How about cognac?"

"Ooh, I like cognac," Millicent agreed. They shoved their way through the crowd and up to th bar, Rick hanging a little behind. He watched Millicent curiously as she ordered two shots of cognac - in German, of course - and began to explain their game. "Now here's what we'll do. You'll say something in a language, and if I know it, I'll say something back in it. And every time we get a language, we'll keep track on our fingers. If one of us uses a language the other doesn't know, we have to take a shot. The one who doesn't know, that is. So there it is. Simple enough, right?"

"Sure," Beni said, running his finger along the rim of his glass.

"Now just to avoid being redundant, let's already count English and German. Alright?"

Beni shrugged, and he mimicked her with a mocking little smile when she held out two fo her fingers.

"Now go ahead. Pick any language you know."

Beni raised his eyebrows. _"Celle-ci est facile."_

_"Facile?"_ Millicent retorted. _"Porquoi?"_

"Because you're a finishing school girl, and they all learn French."

They ticked away another finger.

"Alright. Then it's my turn." She drummed her fingers on the bar a moment before saying, "Как насчет это?"

Beni smiled, holding out another finger. "Я впечатлен, Вы знаете русский язык."

Rick looked between them, confused. "What was that?"

"Russian, dear." She gave Beni a little smirk. "And you shouldn't be surprised. I've been to Moscow."

Beni scoffed. "Oh, I'm sure_ that_ was a treat."

But she shoved him playfully. "It's your turn!"

His gave her a cruel little look, and said something in a strange language that leaned hard on noises that sounded like R, and quickly shushed its T's. Millicent stared at him a minute.

"That didn't sound so different from Russian..."

"It's Hungarian," he told her. "And I asked if you were ready to take your shot, now."

Millicent gave him a little smile and sighed, tipping her cognac back in one fiery blow and hoarsely ordering another. "It's my turn," she said when she regained her voice._ "Wy nie poznajecie ten jed."_

_"Polski? Wy obrażacie mnie."_

She huffed. "Now why would it be insulting if I thought you didn't know Polish?"

Beni snickered at her. "And there's another American problem. You don't know anything on a map past Mexico."

Millicent's eyes narrowed a little, but she was having fun, despite already losing a shot.

"It's your turn."

Much to her disappointment, he spouted off something soft and quietly lyrical, like she'd never heard before. She tilted her head to the side; some of the sounds were familiar...

"Is it Arabic?"

Beni shook his head. "No, Arabic sounds like this."

Her mouth gaped a little as he said something she certainly didn't understand. She took a breath. "And the first was?"

"Hebrew."

She pointed a finger at him. "You're Jewish!"

"No."

"Then how do you know Hebrew? It's a dead language. Have you been to school?"

Beni eyed her full shot glass. "Are you just trying to stall taking that?"

She gave him a look and threw back her shot, and then another. Her head felt quite fuzzy, and she tried to blink away the blurriness clouding her vision. She could feel Rick looking at her in concern, but she waved him off.

"It's only a couple shots, darling. I'm _perfectly_ fine."

Actually, her head felt light as a balloon floating somewhere above her, but she wasn't about to let Rick know that.

Beni watched her a moment, running his finger over his glass again. "I take it you're all out of languages?"

Millicent coughed at the dryness in her throat, and nodded. "I am, unfortunately!" For some reason, admitting that was incredibly amusing to her, and she giggled. "I thought for sure I'd have you with my..." She looked at her hand and smiled. "...five!"

Beni snickered, and tipped back his shot. "I know nine."

She couldn't help being a little impressed, raising her eyebrows and starting to lean back on her barstool - until Rick caught her. She glanced at Beni's hands and blinked a few times, just to be sure she was only seeing eight fingers.

"And what's the ninth?"

He kind of scoffed, getting up from his barstool. "It's completely useless. Romani."

Millicent blinked hard. She didn't know she was reeling until she felt Rick's hands on her shoulders. "What's that?"

"It's what Gypsies speak."

She giggled. "You're joking. Gypsies aren't real! They're like fairies, or, or..."

"Let's get you home," Rick was saying, and suddenly Beni was gone. She frowned, and then smiled because Rick was so dashing and handsome.

"I can't believe he got me," she said, just a little too loudly. "I thought I had him! Nine languages? Can you believe it? And I bet he's...never even been to school -"

"Yeah," Rick muttered, supporting her weight and keeping a firm hold on her shoulders as she tried to walk in the dizzying bar. "It's impressive."

* * *

**_Author's Note. _**_I almost never use actual text in other languages because I think it breaks up the story, and most online translators are shoddy, anyway. I decided to go ahead with it because I figured I could cover what they said with English comments, but I thought I'd put the translations (or intended translations) here. Also, if any of you happen to actually know French, Russian or Polish, I'd be thrilled to death if you could correct those statements as needed:_

**_French:_**

_Beni: "This one is easy."  
Millicent: "Easy? Why?"_

**_Russian:_**

_Millicent: "How about this one?"/"What about this?"  
Beni: "I am impressed you know Russian."_

**_Polish:_**

_Millicent: "You will not know this one."  
Beni: "Polish? I am insulted."_


	6. Though They All Knew

**_Author's Note. _**_So I guess it's another update day. I've had some extra time to work on it, and this story's been falling into place. I was going to put off updating, but now my Document Manager is crowded with a bunch of chapters, so what the heck? Here's the next few._

**_Disclaimer._**_ I don't own the characters of _The Mummy_. That's all Universal property. The title of the story is also the title of a song by The Zombies, which is awesome and you should listen to it. right. this. second. Set a mood._

* * *

**She's Not There**

* * *

_Though They All Knew_

**1923**

The sunlight shining in through the curtains felt much too hot and bright against Millicent's eyelids when she reluctantly woke up. Her whole body hurt, and she didn't want to move or think or even breathe the rest of the day. She just wanted to lay here like a wounded animal and tell herself over and over that she was never drinking cognac again.

"Hey, Mills..."

His voice was sweet and quiet, but she couldn't bear to hear it. She was hoping that perhaps the sunlight was a grand dream, and that it was still the middle of the night.

"Mills, I'm sorry, but you have to get up."

Her eyes cracked open, and the sunlight was even worse than she thought it would be. Three shots of cognac, and a drink before. It didn't sound like much, but it felt absolutely dreadful. Maybe she didn't have the constitution to be a drinker, after all. Rick was leaning over her, and her head cleared just a little as she met his eyes and was taken with him all over again. God, he was handsome. She loved his eyes and his jaw and the shape of his nose, and the way he held his eyebrows when he thought something was funny.

Millicent had been with a handful of men. She hadn't lost count yet. She never wanted to be the type that last count. Some had been handsome and some had merely been clever or fascinating. She remembered a burly Italian with more black hair on his wide chest and belly than she'd ever seen on a person and a face like a pitbull, but he was a Mafia hitman (or so he said) and she was thrilled to death over the way he could tell a story. She wanted to keep them all locked in her mind, and so she studied them, in the early lights of morning or in the dimness of a midnight moon. She'd been studying Rick, locking away every little interesting thing about him, because in a few days he'd be gone.

"It's almost seven."

"Oh, drat," she breathed, her voice croaking. When she opened her mouth she realized just how bad her breath tasted and how ungodly thirsty she was. "God, Hargrove will be such a bear over it, too..."

She pulled herself irritably to a sitting position, her head whirling with stinging pain and dizziness. She reached a hand for her throbbing temple and tried to imagine how she would ever fool them into thinking she wasn't hung over.

She met Rick's gaze and frowned at the little bruise under his eye. "Darling, have you been hit?"

He snorted. "Yeah. By you. Apparently you don't like to be called...Millie?"

Millicent covered her gaping mouth, looking at him with bloodshot, apologetic eyes. "Oh, dear, I'm so sorry! I've never been a mean drunk!"

Rick chuckled. "It's alright."

She leaned over and kissed his bruise. "I'm so sorry. I feel positively terrible about it."

Millicent watched him glance at the clock on the bedside table, and inched over to the side of the bed. A mirror hung on the wall just across from her, and she gasped, trying to managed her tangled mess of dark hair.

"God, why didn't I keep it short?"

He smiled as she raked through her hair with her fingers. "So you were a flapper once, too, huh? I wondered."

She sighed. "Well I did it right at the start, darling, when it was quite scandalous. My mother wouldn't even speak to me when I came home from the hairdresser. But by the next year_ everybody_ had done it, and it'd lost all its fun - for me, anyway. What's the point in doing something daring if everyone else on earth is doing it, too? Besides, my face isn't made for bobs. I look like a bumpkin farmboy."

Rick laughed. "I really doubt that."

Millicent glanced back at him and smiled. "You're sweet."

He looked down, and reached for his shirt from off the floor. He didn't put it on, though. He toyed with it in his hands a moment, and stared at the fabric when he said, "You know, you said something kind of...interesting last night."

She met his eyes apprehensively through the mirror. "Did I?"

Rick reached up and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah...You said...I didn't know anything about you, except what you look like naked."

"Oh," she winced a little. "I'm sorry about that. I was feeling awfully competitive just then."

"I mean, it's true..."

Millicent swallowed hard and they looked at one another for a long, uncomfortable moment. Rick glanced back at his shirt.

"We're leaving first thing in the morning Saturday. I don't know if we're coming back. I just...I don't want you to think I'm just...using you this week. And I'm...you know, I'm sorry if you've felt that way."

She turned away from the mirror and crept across the bed to him. She touched the side of his face, and he looked up into her eyes. She saw a complex emotion there she hadn't anticipated. She wasn't sure what to do with the way he was looking at her, but she felt exhilerated and didn't want him to look away.

"Why don't you come to lunch with me today?"

His mouth jerked a little in surprise, but he shrugged. "Um, alright. With you and your sister and Hargrove?"

Millicent nodded. "If you'd like to know more about me, sitting through a meal with_ those_ people is a good place to start."

He kind of laughed, though she could tell he was unnerved by the prospect. They made half-hearted jokes to one another as they dressed and Millicent tried desperately to fix her appearance.

"My sister won't believe I'm not wearing make-up," she said after she finally decided her best course of action was washing away the smeared mascara under her eyes. He smiled at her fresh face and told her he liked the way she looked. She found a few stray pins in her purse and put her hair up in a bun, and they left the hotel room that she couldn't remember renting the night before.

She insisted on driving them to the restaurant because "Hargrove will die if he sees I let you get behind the wheel of his stupid car," and he offered his arm as they walked inside. Millicent waved to a couple seated near the window under a fan. She leaned over and asked Rick if he didn't Hargrove was as ridiculous as he could possibly look. Rick didn't say anything as they crossed the room and he held out her chair for her.

"Oh, Mills, I didn't know you were bringing a guest," her sister said, a forced cheeriness in her tone. She eyed Rick and then looked over at her husband, as if to make sure he noticed the other man standing by the table.

"This is my friend, Captain Rick O'Connell," Millicent said. "He's a Legionnaire. Rick, this is my sister Beatrice and her husband, James Hargrove."

"Sir James Hargrove," he corrected, holding out his hand. Rick gave it a shake and sat down. Millicent bit her lip and tried not to laugh.

"Hargrove, your moustache is in excellent form this morning," she said. Hargrove stroked the massive thing, which covered his whole top lip and was greased into curls on either end.

"Thank you, my dear."

Beatrice shot her a warning look before her whole face turned to sunshine. Her complexion was the same as Millicent, but her hair was much lighter and her eyes were more hazel than brown. Her hair was short and perfectly pincurled, and she was dressed with such care that nearly everything she wore matched. Rick tried not to gape at the size of the diamond on her ring finger.

"So Mr. O'Connell - "

_"Captain_ O'Connell," Millicent quickly corrected.

Beatrice hid her irritation between her teeth. "Excuse me, Captain O'Connell - are you the one who's been keeping our darling Millicent away from us?"

Rick's face flushed a little. "Uh, yeah, I guess I have."

Beatrice's eyes flitted to her sister before she continued. "Here she comes all the way from Boston to visit us, and she's spent her whole time so far with you. You must be quite fascinating."

"Oh, Millicent always finds the most fascinating people, dearest," Hargrove said. "I never know who she's going to bring to a party. Do you remember that agent from the IRA?"

Beatrice's smile sparkled, but her eyes were hard. "Ah, who can forget? He was the one who passed out on Aunt Georgie's sofa after drinking all the punch."

Millicent sucked in a little breath. "He wasn't in the IRA, darling. He was only Irish and you _thought_ he was in the IRA."

"Well either way, he drank all the punch. It was quite rude."

Millicent glanced away from her sister and focused her attention on Hargrove. "Captain O'Connell_ is_ quite fascinating. Do you know he's been all over the world? And he has a friend, this slight little fellow who's never been to school, who can speak nine languages. Fancy that, huh?"

"Ah, how very interesting," Beatrice said. "Perhaps you can bring him to lunch next."

Millicent's hands tightened in her lap, and she straightened in her chair a little. "Well at least I don't hang about the same droll people day in and day out. You two never have anything interesting to say. You just talk about the same people doing the same things all day long."

Beatrice sniffed. "Yes, dear. We talk about the same people because they're our friends. And they've always been our friends. We don't simply...hop from companion to companion when we get bored."

Millicent glared at her sister now. "Beatrice, you're being awfully rude to our guest."

Hargrove looked between the two women nervously. "Perhaps we should find the waitor and order -"

Rick nodded at him, but Beatrice was leaning forward, meeting Millicent's glare. "He's not our guest, darling. He's your guest. And after him there'll be another one, and another. And I'm quite tired of being polite to every sewer rat you drag to my table. Nobody's shocked or amused anymore. It's time you grew up and started spending your time with our people, instead of constantly trying to liven the party with another uninvited guest."

Millicent stood up from the table. "I think we'll be having our brunch elsewhere."

Beatrice turned her eyes to the menu smugly. "Oh, there's a surprise."

Her sister shot her a final look before touching Rick's shoulder. "Come on."

He seemed relieved to be escaping the table, and she could barely keep up with his long strides. When they reached the door, she leaned over and whispered:

"Didn't I tell you Hargrove was horrible?"


	7. About the Way She Looked

**_Author's Note. _**_Another short one. These are just all dialogue; it's hard to get around that. But anyway, here it is!_

**_Disclaimer._**_ I don't own the characters of _The Mummy_. That's all Universal property. The title of the story is also the title of a song by The Zombies, which is awesome and you should listen to it. right. this. second. Set a mood._

* * *

**She's Not There**

* * *

_About the Way She Looked_

**1926**

The door slammed open and made Jonathan jump in surprise. He'd just settled himself into his robe and a bourbon nightcap in the living room, and he was quite surprised to see Evelyn so early. He immediately jumped to his feet and crossed the room to take her hands and looking over her fingers.

"Alright, let's have a look at it!"

But Evelyn's face was stormy and she quickly jerked her hands away. "At what?"

Jonathan swallowed sheepishly and pretended to be nonchalant. "Oh, nothing." He lifted his drink to his lips. "Didn't expect you to be back so quickly."

"Me either," she said testily, dropping into one of the chairs and crossing her arms.

Jonathan eyed her carefully as he meandered over to the couch adjacent her. "So..." he tried with an air of caution. "Where's our good friend O'Connell?"

"Ooh!" she huffed. "What's that your drinking?"

"Just a spot of bourbon -"

"Make me one."

Jonathan watched her a second before crossing the room to the bar and fixing her a nightcap, too.

"Do you remember Millicent Oliver?" she asked.

Jonathan paused for a moment before untwisting the bottle of bourbon the rest of the way. "Yes, I think so. Sir's cousin, isn't she?"

Evelyn shot him a glare over her shoulder. "Now you know I haven't any idea about the silly nicknames your university boys give each other. Who are you talking about?"

Her brother took a breath and tried to stay amiable, since she was clearly upset. "Jim Hargrove. You remember. They moved down the way from us a few years ago. I think they're back in England now."

"Oh, right," he heard her say as he finished off the drink and started back towards her. "Jim Hargrove with the moustache."

Jonathan laughed, handing her the bourbon. "Yes. Nietzsche is jealous from the grave." He settled back into the couch and took a sip of his own drink. "What made you think of Millicent Oliver?"

Evelyn let out a long sigh and took a sip that made her wince for a moment. "She was at the restaurant. And Rick acted in the most pecular manner after he saw her...Jonathan, did you know she has a child? And she's unmarried?"

Her brother rolled his eyes and gaped at her. "Come on, Evy! I told you that ages ago."

"Well you know I don't care a bit about silly gossip."

Jonathan huffed. "Well I told you all about it. Jim said the whole family outcast her, except some...senile grandmother back in Boston who probably didn't know her from her sister. She was left a great deal of money. I think I heard she's living here. It's cheaper to live here than in America or England, you know, and she's only got that money her grandmother left her. She's been cut out of every other will, as you can imagine."

Evelyn took another sip of her drink, and this time she didn't wince. Her face relaxed a little.

"So what? The father wouldn't marry her?"

Jonathan shook his head. "Oh, please, as if anyone knows who the father is. The_ rumor_ is that it was some...Legionnaire she was gallavanting about with, who left on a secret mission and never returned. It all sounds awfully romanticized if you ask me."

But when he looked up, Evelyn was staring at him, her mouth hanging open a little. He didn't quite understand her shock until he traced back through his words, and his face fell.

"Oh, Evy -"

"Did you say Legionnaire?" she whispered.

Jonathan started shaking his head. "Did I? No, I don't think so...I think I said pilot, or meant to say -"

She gave him a hard look, and he breathed a sigh. She covered her mouth and they sat in silence for a long time, and it pained Jonathan to see his sister so upset. He knew her well enough now to know that she took things hardest in quiet.

"Really, Evy," he said gently. "You shouldn't worry about it. Millicent Oliver is a party girl. She always has been. Why, I remember when we were only teenagers, she -" He cleared his throat. "Anyway. That child could be anybody's, and she knows it. And really, it's not as if the bugger's named Rickie Junior now, is it?"

Evelyn laughed, breathing a ruthless sigh. They both lifted their drinks to their lips, and Evelyn said:

"His name is Alfred."

Jonathan spit his drink across the floor, choking a little bit on whatever managed to make it down his throat. He coughed hard a few times, his eyes watering a while after he regained his composure.

"What," he whispered, "did you say his name was?"


	8. The Way She Lies

**_Disclaimer._**_ I don't own the characters of _The Mummy_. That's all Universal property. The title of the story is also the title of a song by The Zombies, which is awesome and you should listen to it. right. this. second. Set a mood._

* * *

**She's Not There**

* * *

_The Way She Lies_

**1923**

"I'd like to be clear about something," Millicent said, running a hand through her disheveled hair.

Rick opened his eyes and yawned. It was well after midnight and he knew he should be heading back to the barracks, but the beds was so much nicer in the hotel rooms she rented, and it was much quieter here, too.

He turned on his side and looked at her. She was sitting up in bed, and she looked as if she'd been sitting there a while.

"I know...how Hargrove made things sound at brunch this morning."

Rick kind of scoffed, which turned into a yawn. "And by Hargrove you mean your sister, right?"

He could feel her glare in the dark. "My sister and I were best friends, and he came between us. You heard him start the business about the Irishman they all thought was an agent for the IRA. It's all his doing."

Rick threw her an incredulous look, but he was too tired to argue.

"Anyway, I know how things sounded. I just...I wanted you to know that I'm not that sort of person at all. I mean, of course I have brought many guests they wouldn't dream of inviting to their silly parties, but believe me, it's all so dull that I must. And I've brought lots of people, but that's only because no one in their right mind would dare go back to another one. Interesting people don't go to their parties more than once. And..."

Her voice shook just a little, and she hit her fist against the mattress.

"And I've only been with seven men, I'll have you know. That's counting you. My whole life, since I was fifteen, there's only been seven. I know it's not a small number, but it's hardly dozens and dozens like everyone says. You've probably been with twice that many women in half the time. And I'm tired of people insinuating that I'm reckless and tacky because of it. I'm sick to death of boring people and their disapproval. Do you know what I mean?"

Rick shrugged, yawning again. "I think so..."

"I'm sorry, dear, I can let you sleep if you'd like. It's just been bothering me, what they said in front of you. They say those things to me all the time, but when they said them in front of you...well, I just felt obligated to explain myself, I suppose."

Rick reached up and patted her leg. "It's alright. Why don't you rest now?"

Millicent drifted off for what felt like only a moment before Rick was gently shaking her arm. She groaned a little as she opened her eyes, but it was still dark.

"Why do you stick around them, then?"

She blinked in confusion, trying to figure out what he was saying to her. "What? Who?"

"Hargrove and everyone that's so boring. Why do you even bother? Why'd you come to visit?"

Millicent rubbed her eyes. "I don't know...they're family, I suppose..." She yawned. "And where would I go, anyway? I don't have any of my money yet. It's all either in a trust fund or willed away by people who are very much alive."

Rick stared at her a long moment, until she sat up in bed and turned to look at him to be sure he was even still awake.

"Come with me," he said quietly.

Millicent's brow furrowed. "What? Where?"

"I don't know. Anywhere."

She pushed her hair out of her face and just looked at him. "You don't know anything about me."

He kind of laughed. "I know what you look like naked."

Millicent laughed too, and liked the way he reached over to rub his hand up and down her arm.

"And I know you're stuck living with people who are terrible. And I know I'm sick of the Legion..."

"So we just...run off?"

Rick shrugged. "Why not?"

Millicent started toying with the sheets thoughtfully. "It's awfully impulsive."

"And you're not impulsive, now?"

She smiled a little, and he reached up and touched her face, turning her to look at him. "You're not the girl they say you are. I don't know much about you, but I know that. Let's go. When I get back from this stupid mission, let's just go."

Millicent leaned down and kissed him, finding his deep blue eyes in the darkness. He saw something strange about her face, or imagined he saw it. Something like fear, or maybe just nervousness. She kissed his forehead and whispered:

"And what if I am the girl they say I am?"

Rick shook his head, his palm warm against her cheek. "Don't talk like that."

Millicent nodded slowly. "You're serious? About running away together?"

He laughed, a little nervous or embarrassed, but told her he was serious.

"Okay," she whispered to the darkness. "Okay."

He smiled, and they settled back down again together, curled close in the cool, quiet night. He wrapped his arm around her and she ran her fingertips over his hands.

"You haven't told me where you're going at the end of the week, Cap," she said.

Rick pulled her close against him. "You can't tell anyone. We'll get in a lot of trouble. We're not even supposed to be in Egypt right now..."

Millicent threaded her fingers through his and squeezed his hand. "You know I won't tell a soul."

The way he sighed sounded annoyed, or maybe just exhausted. "We're going to Hamunaptra."


	9. Please Don't Bother

**_Author's Note. _**_And, _I suppose_, just ONE MORE before the weekend!_

**_Disclaimer._**_ I don't own the characters of _The Mummy_. That's all Universal property. The title of the story is also the title of a song by The Zombies, which is awesome and you should listen to it. right. this. second. Set a mood._

* * *

**She's Not There**

* * *

_Please Don't Bother_

**1923**

"It's Winthrop."

"Winthrop?"

"Yes. Don't you see, it's _quite_ important that everyone know I'm a true Brahmin, even if I'm an Oliver. Imagine being a little girl with something as stupid as Winthrop for a middle name."

"What's a Brahmin?"

"Oh, it's a very special kind of Bostonian who feeds off of his own self-importance."

"I thought a Brahmin was a cow."

Millicent giggled, giving Beni a playful slap on his arm. "They basically are, dear."

She glanced up in the direction of the nearing footsteps and smiled at the sight of Rick's tall form. She swung open her car door (nearly hitting Beni) and stood up, waving him over.

"Good afternoon, Cap!" She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a kiss. "We were just talking about middle names. What's yours."

"Gregory. Mills -"

She drew a little amused gasp and turned back to look at Beni. "How fascinating! Did you know that's Beni's middle name, too? Well, the Hungarian version, that is. Say it again, would you, darling?"

"Gergely."

Millicent giggled, turning to give Rick a dazzling smile.

"Isn't that a treat? GER-gay. It just sounds so cheery, doesn't it? Which is ironic because Gregorian chants are anything but -"

"Mills," Rick's voice was just hard enough to stop her in her tracks. Her smile faded. "I'm sorry, but I can't go out tonight."

Millicent frowned now, stepping out of his embrace. "Why ever not? I was going to buy you the most spectacular supper."

"Yeah..." He scratched the back of his head. "There's a lot...with supplies and stuff - we have to get ready, and they put me in charge of it."

Millicent crossed her arms over her chest and pouted, just a little. "But it's already Thursday!"

Rick sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. I can't do anything about it."

She looked at him another moment, and then gave him a smile. She took a step towards him and planted a kiss on his lips. "Well, of course you can't, darling. I understand."

She reached up and smoothed his hair out of his face, and then a devilish little look crept into her eyes. "But you know, of course, this means you owe me a favor."

Rick eyed her skeptically. "Should I be scared?"

"Terrified, darling," she laughed. "Hargrove's having one of his dull old parties tomorrow night, and if you don't come I'll simply _die_ of boredom." She glanced over her shoulder at Beni, who was slowly inching away from them. "And you, too, dear."

His head jerked up in surprise, and Rick's eyes widened in confusion. Beni asked "Why?" while Rick said, "Really?", and Millicent couldn't help but laugh at their expressions.

"Well, of course, Cap. You're much too polite to upset them the way he could."

Beni's face was clearly marked with suspicion. "What if I don't want to go?"

Millicent sighed. "There's going to be free liquor."

He shrugged, and an ugly little smile spread across his face. "Alright."

She felt Rick squeezing her shoulders gently, and she turned to look up at him again. "So, I'm sorry, but I have to get going -"

Millicent nodded, giving him another kiss. "I'll see you both first thing in the morning." When Rick just stared blankly at her, she said, "Well, unless you've already got tuxedos tucked about here somewhere, which I doubt."

Rick sighed and kissed her again. "Okay. I need to go now."

She smiled and bid him goodbye. A disgruntled expression passed over her face, and she glanced at her watch to see that it was only about five o'clock in the afternoon. She'd told Hargrove and Bea not to expect her for supper; she could still join them, but why on earth would she want to do that? She could go out and get her own supper, but she hated the thought of being alone even more than spending the evening with her sister and brother-in-law. She glanced up to see Beni's back as he started off in the opposite direction of Rick.

"Hey, hold on a minute!"

He turned and looked at her in surprise. "What?"

"Let's go have a drink."

"Why?"

Millicent rolled her eyes. "Well, what else are we doing?"

Beni thought it over and sighed. He turned around and came back to the car, letting himself in on the passenger's side. Millicent slid in on the driver's side and started the ignition, muttering something to herself about where they should go. The air was heavy with sunlight between them, and Beni didn't say anything as they sped off. He only lit a cigarette and sighed.

Millicent wasn't terribly familiar with Cairo, but she knew how to find her staple spots. She'd noticed a casbah in the same area of town as that little place they'd gone dancing the other night, and decided to give it a go. She felt slightly uncomfortable, sitting in the silence, but she wasn't sure what to say to Beni. She hadn't seen him since Tuesday night at the bar, and she couldn't quite remember how they had parted. But she_ did_ remember they'd been on the topic of languages.

"Do you really speak all nine fluently, then?"

He glanced over at her and smirked. "Were you wanting to get into another contest over it?"

Millicent shook her head, taking a turn down a street that seemed familiar. "No. I was just curious. Those five I know...I'll admit, I'm sort of rusty."

Beni scoffed. "You studied them in school?"

She nodded, and smiled triumphantly when she caught a glimpse of the casbah she had in mind. "Yes."

"I didn't know you could learn Polish or Russian. I thought all girls ever wanted to learn was French."

Millicent shrugged, slowing the car as she searched for a place to park. "I suppose most do...I don't know. I guess I just wanted to be different from everyone else."

"There's a spot." He leaned back and pointed to an open stretch of street just a block down from the casbah. "I speak all nine fluently."

Her eyebrows jumped up in surprise. "Well, I'm impressed. How do you keep them all straight in your head?"

Beni shrugged, taking a drag of his cigarette. "I don't know. It's just always been easy for me."

Millicent pulled the car to a stop and turned it off. "That's some talent."

He kind of snickered and tossed his cigarette onto the dusty sidewalk. "I guess."

They walked together down to the casbah in silence. The afternoon was slowly cooling off and the bar only had one, sad little fan, so Millicent suggested they sit outside. They sat under the shade of the awning with their drinks, and Millicent tried to come up with something to say.

"O'Connell hasn't slept in the barracks all week."

Millicent felt her face flushing a little. "No...I suppose he hasn't."

Beni sneered and took a small gulp from his glass. "But you don't take him back to your house. You go to hotels."

"Well, I couldn't very well take him to Hargrove's. My sister would _actually_ have a conniption."

He gave her a nasty look. "But you're taking me there."

Millicent frowned. "And Rick, too."

"Why do you want me to come, anyway?"

She sighed, feeling her cheeks flush again. She took a sip of her drink. "I don't know. I suppose I like you. And you're just the sort of person to throw them all into a tizzy."

He eyed her over the brim of his glass. "You know, you're not very good."

Millicent tilted her head to the side. "Whatever do you mean by that?"

Beni shrugged. "Just that. You're not good."

She scoffed, feeling just a little offended. "Some critic you are. You're in the French Foreign Legion. And...well, it's fairly obvious you've robbed people, judging by your little stunt with the gun."

"Good people don't like me," he said.

Millicent straightened in her seat. "Rick likes you. He's good."

"Heh," Beni kind of laughed to himself. "I wasn't talking about how he is in bed."

She gave him a little glare. "Neither was I."

He took a sip and snickered. "That's because he isn't that good, is he?"

Millicent gaped at him a moment before quickly crossing her arms over her chest and gazing away from him. "I'm not interested in talking about these things with you."

Beni laughed out loud, a high, whiny chortle that grated on her ears. He downed the rest of his drink and looked at her. "Are you buying my next one as well?"

She shot him a look. "You can get your own."

He was still laughing when he stood up and walked back into the bar. Millicent's hand gripped her glass, and she tried to quiet the irritation thudding away in her veins. She'd asked him out for the drink, after all. And he did amuse her most the time -

"So you go -"

She jumped and let out a startled cry, looking up to meet his eyes, still dancing with their own personal joke. "That was quick."

"The bartender wasn't there. I'll check back in a minute," he said, sitting down again. "So you go and you spend your money on hotel rooms and buying dinners and drinks and tuxedos, and then what?"

Millicent bit her lip. She didn't want to tell him about her and Rick's plan of escape, but she certainly didn't want to encourage Beni's idea of her as a bad person. She looked at him airily and took a drink.

"I don't know. I've never done this before."

Suddenly he was laughing again, even harder than last time. He couldn't seem to calm himself for a full minute, much to Millicent's annoyance.

He finally gasped back a breath and said, "Ohhh, _of course_ this is your first time!"

Millicent cleared her throat and pretended to ignore his persistent stare.

"He's handsome and you want to like sleeping with him, but you just don't like him very much, do you?"

She frowned at him. "I like him just fine. Why would I hang about someone I don't like?"

He shrugged. "That's just what I mean. You hang around me an awful lot for someone who is seeing O'Connell." He watched her sit uncomfortably for a moment. "And O'Connell doesn't like me, by the way."

Millicent shook her head. "Now, that's not true. He invited you to come out with us the other night -"

"He gave me a little bit of money to order drinks for you. He did not invite me out."

She sighed, glancing back towards the bar. "I might go and see if the bartender's back..."

Beni nodded. Millicent stepped into the dark little building and was relieved to see the barkeep sitting behind the bar, reading the newspaper. It was still fairly early in the day for drinkers, and she felt comforted by the emptiness. Without really thinking, she ordered two drinks and sat to wait while he made them.

Why had she invited Beni out for a drink?

She was trying to avoid going back to Hargrove's, that was true. But why Beni? She could've called someone else up instead. The day she'd arrived, she'd met Jonny Carnahan at the station by chance; she could've asked him out for a drink instead. Was it odd of her, taking another man out because Rick was unavailable? Perhaps she shouldn't have done this...

The drinks were ready, and she asked the bartender to keep them on a tab. She stepped back outside and noticed that the sky was changing colors before her eyes; could the sun already be setting?

Beni took the drink from her hand without saying a word. She sat back down at the table and gave him a tired look.

"Could we talk about something else?"

He shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink. She watched him reach into his pocket for a cigarette, and she let out a little moan.

"Oh, won't you give me one?"

The look on his face said he wouldn't, but she was quick to remind him she'd bought both of his drinks so far. He begrudgingly held out a cigarette and gave her a light.

"I try to ease up around Hargrove and Bea. They hate smoking. It makes Hargrove ill, even."

Beni sighed. "I don't know who those people are, and I don't care."

Millicent snorted, taking a drag from the cigarette. The smoke felt dry and warm in her throat.

"You know, if I like you so much, why are you such a bear to me?" she said, the tobacco making her feel strangely agitated instead of calm.

Beni raised his eyebrows. "I am a bear to you?"

"Well, you know, you're not particularly nice."

He scoffed. "I'm not nice to anyone. I can't help it if you like it."

Millicent frowned, taking a sip from her drink. "I _don't_ like it."

"Sure you do," he said, blowing out a trail of smoke. "You probably wish O'Connell was just a little less nice to you. Maybe you'd like him better in bed."

Millicent sighed and took another drag. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm sure you do."

She looked up at his smug face, and they stared at each other for a strange moment in the dying red sunlight.


	10. Soft and Cool

**_Disclaimer._**_ I don't own the characters of _The Mummy_. That's all Universal property. The title of the story is also the title of a song by The Zombies, which is awesome and you should listen to it. right. this. second. Set a mood._

* * *

**She's Not There**

* * *

_Soft and Cool_

**1923**

Millicent Oliver was the type of girl to know when she looked positively radiant. She wore red, because_ obviously_, and her long hair was curled in perfect, shiny waves from being rolled wet into pin curls the night before. She knew how to fix her eyes and walk in heels - had always known, in a way, as if such things were meant for her. She'd driven down to the base to pick up Rick and Beni, and she burst through the doors at Hargrove's with a date on each arm. The disapproving glances were well-hidden, and even if they hadn't been, she wouldn't have cared. She felt giddy and alive and she hadn't even had a glass of champagne yet.

"Mills, you devil!"

She turned at the sound of the familiar voice and flashed a smile. Despite the fact that Hargrove was as dull as a piece of old wood, many of his old university boys were very fun. She slipped her arm out of Rick's to let the man kiss her hand in a garish display.

"Teddy!"

He grinned, glancing at each of her companions before saying, "You look perfectly ravishing, love. And who are these fine fellows?"

"Oh, Teddy, this is Captain O'Connell, and this is Mr. Gabor. They're Legionnaires and they're only here one more night before they march out into that nasty desert, so I thought - why not take them out for some fun?"

Teddy gave her a playful look and leaned in to whisper, "Some fun they'll find here."

Millicent exaggerated a grimace. "No doubt, darling, but I have to try and have my fun, too."

He sort of scoffed, looking her over. "No doubt in deed." He met her eyes again quickly. "And Jonny said to tell you he's dreadfully sorry he couldn't be here, but he's got a dig in the morning. And I'm supposed to tell you from him that he 'should've been a pair of ragged claws.' I have no idea what that means, but I believe it's Eliot."

She swatted his arm. "Well, of course it is, darling!"

_"J. Alfred Prufrock_, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Ah! He's a literature professor after all." Millicent giggled to herself. "And Jonathan on a dig? I thought he'd given that up completely."

"I'm afraid not," Teddy said.

Millicent shook her head. "You know, I saw him when I first arrived here. He bought me a drink."

Teddy looked her over again, and a strange, dirty smirk crept into the corner of his mouth. "Yes, he'd...mentioned something about that."

She swallowed uneasily and tried to ignore the way he eyed her. She knew it shouldn't surprise her that any of them should talk, or brag, or joke. It wasn't unlike Jonathan at all to tell Teddy or anyone else that they'd had more than the drink together. Jonathan had had her first, hadn't he? When she was fifteen and he was seventeen and he'd snuck a whole bottle of champagne from the table, and she told him she wouldn't kiss him until he read this poem with her...

Her eyes met Teddy's fiercely, still smirking with innuendo, and she wanted to tell him it had been for the sake of a sweet little memory. But what would saying that prove? People like Teddy didn't understand.

Millicent noticed that Rick was watching her with a sympathetic nervousness, and she suggested they go find a drink and bid Teddy a cheery goodbye.

As they approached the bar, Rick leaned in to ask, "So what was that about?"

She let out a sigh. "Oh, it's a long story and most of it's completely boring."

He raised his eyebrows, but didn't press her any further. Beni shot them both an irritated look and slipped his arm out of Millicent's, leaning against the bar to order. Rick was staring at her.

"You know, I don't know how you put up with these people for as long as you have."

Millicent shrugged her shoulders. "Their bark is worse than their bite, darling. It's all a matter of how you respond to what they'd never dream of saying to your face."

Rick shook his head and pulled her a little closer. "Well, whatever it is, I'm impressed. I couldn't do it."

She reached up a hand to touch his face. "That's because you're so good, Cap."

The word felt strange in her mouth, and made her stomach turn a little. He _was_ good. Not in the squeaky-clean, goodie-two-shoes sort of way. But good in the way no one she knew was good. He was the kind of person who didn't play games or say the opposite of what he meant. And it suddenly occurred to her that he really_ did_ mean to run away with her, maybe even for good.

Millicent's head didn't quite feel connected to her body as she stepped up to the bar and ordered a drink. She turned to say something to Rick, but then _she_ happened:

"Captain O'Connell, was it? What a pleasant surprise!"

Beatrice looked lovely as ever in black. She never wore anything showy anymore. But Millicent was _sure,_ at least now and then, that she was still herself. And when she saw the look in her sister's eyes, she knew she was.

"Mrs. Hargrove," Rick said, forcing politeness.

Beatrice flashed a little smile and Millicent saw herself in her sister just then. She offered her arm. "Now Captain O'Connell, I know we didn't get off to the best of starts the other day. I'd like to try and make it up to you, if I might. Won't you have a dance?"

Rick didn't seem to know how to answer, and he looked to Millicent helplessly. She gave him a little smile and a gentle push towards her sister.

"Now, of course he will, Bea. Captain O'Connell's an excellent dancer, aren't you, darling?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Um, actually -"

"I won't take no for an answer," Beatrice said. Rick reluctantly obliged, casting glances over his shoulder as he was led off.

"God, he looks like he's going to the gallows," Millicent sighed, taking a sip of her drink.

Beni sidled up to her. "Well, you sent him there."

She couldn't help giggling, just a little. "Poor dear. He probably doesn't know up from down. Bea can pull a switch like you wouldn't believe. She's sweet as molasses at these things. She figures if she's agreeable to my guests they'll behave themselves. Little does she know, she should be charming_ you_, not Rick."

Millicent suddenly felt Beni's hand curl around her wrist, and she turned to look at him curiously. "Where can I go to have a smoke?"

"Believe it or not, Hargrove lets people smoke in his office. I have no idea why, since smoke makes him sick - I think he likes that whole pompous atmosphere, cigars and pipes and all that..."

He started pulling her away from the bar, and she gave him a little look before taking over the lead. They walked down a quiet back hallway and Millicent opened one of the doors.

Hargrove's office was enormous, covered floor to ceiling in bookshelves. He had a sofa and an armchair - both leather - on one end, and the biggest, heaviest desk Millicent had ever seen on the other, with an obnoxious leather desk chair pulled just away from it. The desk was always perfectly empty, except for a little globe, and all the drawers were_ always_ locked. An oriental rug covered almost the entire length of the room, and a tall lamp stood in one corner. The lights were off, but the curtains were dawn open, letting milky white moonlight flood the floor.

They stepped in and Millicent closed the door behind them. She was about to ask if she could have a cigarette, too, when Beni took her by the arm and pushed her up against the door, taking her off guard with a deep, sudden kiss. She let her arms wrap around his shoulders, but only for a moment. She turned her head away and tried to gather her breath.

"Don't..."

But he took her jaw in his hand and forced her to face him again. "I'm so sick of you."

Her body tensed, and he kissed her again. A terrible nervousness overtook her as he kept kissing her, as his hands moved roughly over her body. Her heart thudded away in her temples, in every place his bony fingers touched. She tried to breathe and couldn't, and she was exhilerated by the feeling of suffocation. His mouth moved away from hers suddenly, down her neck, and the sharp scrape of his teeth made her gasp. She tried to blink away the haze in her mind and pulled his hands off of her.

"I said stop it," she whispered.

He wrenched his hands from hers and pulled her against him again. A rush ran through her body, and her head felt so empty and light that she barely felt she could stand. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he started kissing her again, and she struggled to catch her breath. Everything inside her tingled...but no, she had to think. She had to be good.

She broke his kiss and tried to look at him seriously. "Beni -"

"Shut up," he told her. His lips and teeth were trailing down her neck and she could feel his hard fingertips and the sharp little pricks of his fingernails in her back. Her skin crawled with goosebumps and her legs were trembling and _God, _she wasn't going to fight it anymore...

"Okay," she murmured.

She felt drunk; she stumbled along behind him when he pulled her over to Hargrove's desk. She leaned back against it and kissed him while she hiked the hem of her dress up, but he stopped her and turned her around and bent her over the desk, and somehow Hargrove's stupid little globe went flying and landed on the rug with a thud. Her mind was a fuzzy mess of the hard desk and hard fingertips and everything hurting in the most exquisitely wonderful way. She wanted to scream but she bit her arm instead, and her whole body trembled and trembled until she didn't think she could take such strange ecstacy any longer.

And suddenly it was over and her legs felt like water, and she could just faintly smell cigarette smoke. Millicent took a deep breath and straightened to a stand. Her hands gripped the desk for support as she turned around and leaned against it, because she was sure she was going to collapse.

Beni wasn't looking at her. He leaned back in Hargrove's desk chair and smoked, breathing billowy little clouds out into the moonlight. She stared at him until he looked at her, his smug eyes looking grayer than blue in the light.

"Didn't I say you like it better when people aren't nice to you?"

Millicent swallowed hard and nodded. She managed to whisper hoarsely, "Give me a cigarette..."

And then the door opened.


	11. Trying to Find Her

**_Disclaimer._**_ I don't own the characters of _The Mummy_. That's all Universal property. The title of the story is also the title of a song by The Zombies, which is awesome and you should listen to it. right. this. second. Set a mood._

* * *

**She's Not There**

* * *

_Trying to Find Her_

**1926**

"I know you knew what happened," she whispered. "That night at Hargrove's party. I know you knew."

Rick looked down, and his hand loosened on hers. He breathed a heavy sigh and reached up to scratch the back of his neck, like he always did when he was uncomfortable.

"It was, uh, pretty obvious," he said. His voice was more bitter than he meant it to be. "I couldn't find you guys, and your sister said you probably went for a smoke in Hargrove's office...and there you were."

Millicent swallowed, and her cheeks might have colored just a little. It was hard to tell in the candlelight. "There we were."

Rick shook his head, staring at the window for a long time. He smiled in a sad sort of way, and when he looked at her again, his eyes were full of pain.

"I just...Why? You know? Why?"

Millicent bit her lip. She could tell from the way he sighed after saying them that the words were a relief. She reached for her cup of coffee, but didn't take a drink.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I don't have anything to say for myself. It just happened..."

"No," Rick said. "No. That doesn't 'just happen'."

Millicent nodded slowly. "You're right...Perhaps it only felt like it did."

Rick just looked confused, and the way he kept tapping his fingers on the table made him seem agitated all over again. He hadn't thought about her in years, or maybe it had only been months. He hadn't thought about her in a while, but his head was feeling red and hazy over a stupid night too long ago. He took a breath and tried to keep himself calm.

"I mean...What the hell, Mills?"

She reached for her pack of cigarettes, her hands shaking a little. She couldn't quite look at him as she slipped a cig in her mouth and lit it.

"Do you remember what you said to me, before you left?"

Rick's brow furrowed. "Umm...?"

She took a drag and breathed it out again. "Well, you came in, and you looked at me, and you looked at..._him,_ and you said you were going to go. And I offered to drive you and you said you wanted to walk. So I walked you outside, and you said -"

"I said you_ were_ the girl they said you were after all."

Millicent looked up and met his gaze. "That's right." She sighed out another stream of smoke. "That's right. I'm not good, Rick. I don't know what else to tell you."

Rick shook his head, and drank the very last of his whiskey. He sighed heavily and stared at her. His expression was marked by disappointment and frustration. He couldn't believe she was making him feel this way - this...powerless and stupid over something he thought was over. He'd walked back to the base that night and thrown away that stupid tux, and in the morning he marched out with his men to Hamunaptra. He didn't look at Beni, and Beni didn't look at him. When he finally made his way back to Cairo after that mess with the Tauregs in Hamunaptra, he said he was forgetting her for good. He never went back to the bar where they met or the casbah where they danced, and he occupied his time with other women. This was over...this was over...

"And I can't tell you if you're Alfred's father. I'm sorry. But I can't."

Millicent looked down.

"I know there's a fair possibility...But I don't know..._when_. It's all so unclear. I didn't even find out til very late. I never imagined I could've been pregnant, you know? I was never very ill, and my cycles - anyway, you don't need to hear about all that. I found out very late, and the doctor was able to give me an approximate due date, but I couldn't even be sure when it happened until he was born. And then he was born so small, and the doctor thought perhaps he'd come premature..."

She sighed and glanced up at him again.

"He's either yours, or his, or Jonny's. I thought for a while he might have belonged to a man named Everett Holmes, but I'm sure he's not."

Rick tilted his head curiously. "Why?"

"Because Everett Holmes is a Negro, dear."

"Oh."

Millicent lifted her cup of coffee to her lips. "So there it is."

Rick nodded. "There it is."

She gazed at him, and her eyes were soft and sweet and very sad. "I'm so sorry, Rick."

All he could do was sigh, toying with his old-fashioned glass idly. "Well...there's really nothing you can do."

Millicent gave him a little smile. "I'm sorry I couldn't run away with you. And I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to tell you so."

Rick kind of laughed, and he looked embarrassed. "It was stupid anyway..."

She shook her head. "It wasn't."

He looked at her incredulously. "You don't have to be that way. It was a dumb idea, I know that. We'd known each other, what, a week?"

Millicent smiled. "I wanted to, dear. I know you won't believe that, but it's true. You were so nice, and so good..." She sighed. "But you weren't for me, darling."

Rick leaned back in his chair. "I guess you weren't for me, either."

She blinked rapidly, and then she was smiling so bright and sweet that he nearly believed it was genuine. "Oh, that's right. You and Evelyn Carnahan! What a dear."

"She is," Rick said, looking into her eyes seriously. "She_ really_ is."

Millicent's smile faded, but only for a moment. She took a breath and started to get out of her chair.

"Well, then. It's been a very pleasant evening, but I have a little boy to get home to."

Rick nodded, standing up and taking out his wallet. He dropped a few bills on the table, and she let him.

"It was nice seeing you again, Mills."

He held out his hand, and she shook it.

"No it wasn't," she said calmly. Rick almost smiled, and nodded in agreement.


	12. She's Not There

**_Author's Note. _**_I've been putting off writing this chapter because I knew it was only going to tie up the ends and finish the story. I wished I could've ended it last chapter, but since the story is actually about Rick, the resolution needed to be satisfying for his character. So here it is, short and sweet. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_

**_Disclaimer._**_ I don't own the characters of _The Mummy_. That's all Universal property. The title of the story is also the title of a song by The Zombies, which is awesome and you should listen to it. right. this. second. Set a mood._

* * *

**She's Not There**

* * *

_She's Not There_

**1926**

Rick pounded on the door of Evelyn and Jonathan's house, but no one was answering. The night was getting cold, but he just couldn't let the evening end without having a chance to apologize to Evelyn. Apologize and explain...He breathed an exhausted sigh. What a night. What an awful night.

"I know you're in there!" he shouted.

He heard pert little footsteps in the foyer, and then her voice:

"I don't want to see you tonight, Rick!"

"Evelyn!"

"Go home," she shouted back. "We can talk in the morning!"

"Ev - Evelyn -"

He could hear her footsteps fading away, and he started pounding on the door again. God, what if it was over? What if she was just saying that to get him to leave? Rick swallowed hard. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her. He couldn't, he_ wouldn't_ lose her.

For a moment he thought he heard footsteps, and he stopped knocking on the door. He put his ear up against the wood and struggled to listen. Yes, those were definitely footsteps.

"Come on, Evelyn! Please?"

Silence. And then the lock jingled, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The words were ready and waiting on his lips as the door cracked open...

And Jonathan's face peered out at him.

"Can you tell your sister to come here?"

Jonathan glanced back into the house uneasily. "I don't believe she wants to talk to you right now, my good son -"

Rick crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't care. I need to talk to her."

Jonathan sighed, and gave Rick a steady look. "I'm going to come out there. Alright?"

"But - "

"Now I know you love my sister, but I think you ought to listen to me this time."

Rick let out a loud sigh, and took a reluctant step backwards, allowing Jonathan outside. He wrapped his arms about himself, his cotten pajamas and robe doing little to shield him from the cold desert. He closed the door behind him.

"Dreadfully nippy out here, isn't it?" He stomped his slippered feet and breathed on his hands a little. "I take it the proposal didn't get off as hoped for."

Rick snorted. "You got that right."

Jonathan gave him a pat on the back. "Well, no need to worry. It'll get off."

Rick turned and looked at him seriously. "You think so?"

"Of course, of course." He met Rick's eyes and gave him a warm smile. "Surely you know you're something special to her."

Rick scoffed. "I don't feel too special right now."

Jonathan let out a little sigh, turning to stare out into the night. He wrapped his arms around himself again and rubbed them a little. They stood in a silence for a moment before his voice came, nervous and plaintive:

"Did you, uh, get everything sorted out with Miss Oliver?"

Rick nodded slowly. "More or less."

Jonathan leaned a little closer to him, his eyes shifting about. "And, um...did she happen to tell you who the father is?"

They looked at each other, and Rick's mouth gaped a little. "Oh, my God."

Jonathan's eyes widened. "What? What?"

Rick shook his head. "You're Jonny."

Jonathan smiled anxiously, his face coloring a little. "Yes...I suppose I am."

Rick sighed, looking down at his feet. "It's Beni's."

Jonathan was taken aback. He frowned at Rick in confusion. "Beni? As in...as in Beni? Weaselly little fellow at Hamunaptra?"

"That's the one."

Jonathan gaped for a moment, raising his eyebrows. "Is she...quite sure?"

Rick nodded, gazing out towards the street. It was dark and cold and quiet.

"Well...I suppose that's a relief."

He nodded again, breathing a sigh. He turned and looked at Jonathan, and felt a little guilty at the relaxed smile now on his face. But he pushed it away.

"Is it really going to be alright? With Evelyn?"

Jonathan's expression faded to seriousness. "O'Connell, you have no need to worry. None of us can help what happened in the past. And, crimey, Evy's a historian. She knows that even better than most people. You come back in the morning, and you show her that ring, and it'll all be forgotten. I'd put money on it."

"Yeah?"

Jonathan gave him a slap on the back. "Of course! You needn't worry about the likes of Millicent Oliver, you know. She's the sort of woman who made her own bed."

Rick nodded, the first feelings of relief starting to creep back into his heart. He gave Jonathan a smile, and wished him good night. When he came back in the morning, he knocked on the door.

And she was there.


End file.
